


Consumed

by meoqie



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Blood and Gore, Death, Gen, General unpleasantness without a happy ending, Horror, M/M, Major Illness, Pining Keith (Voltron), Tragedy, Tuberculosis in the 1800s, Unrequited Love, Vampires, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 08:59:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12578248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meoqie/pseuds/meoqie
Summary: Consumption, they called it. A disease that ate away your body from the inside out. A victim would turn pale and wan and weak with fever until, surely, their life would be snuffed out. Consumption, the white death, the white plague - it was always a death sentence. Small towns were familiar with death. Old age, injuries, illnesses. These are simply facts of life and completely natural. But perhaps, sometimes, it's not natural. Perhaps, there's something... supernatural.Keith lost both of his parents to consumption, and set out on his own to escape the tragedy of his past. But tragedy has a way of finding everyone anyway, and, often, consumes us all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's probably nothing, but in the process of writing this fic I've developed this nagging cough...

_Winter. Massachusetts. 1872._

 

 _Consumption_ was whispered behind hands like the name of the Devil himself, weighty and dreadful. It wasn’t something that should have touched their tiny, tucked away town. No one had ever been stricken with consumption before, where had it come from?

However it had happened, it worked fast. After spending much of the winter suffering from the illness, three people were dead within the span of as many months.

The town church had never seen quite so many souls adorn its pews at once.

Keith was not one of them. He’d never had much of a taste for religion, the promise of eternal paradise falling flat and hollow on his cynical ears. What was the point of living at all, then, if to live was to suffer in the hopes of achieving some kind of reward. Why would you desire to birth children into this world of atrocities, for what purpose did humans even exist?

Such words of dissent would have resulted in a swift accusation of witchcraft, so he tucked his doubts behind his teeth and went about his life. But he did not attend church, even when the white death came stalking through the snowy streets.

Spring eventually came, and no one else took ill. It was as if the entire town breathed a collective sigh of relief. They stopped sleeping with their Bibles pressed against their chests like some kind of shield against the supernatural. When all else failed, there was always the Word of the Lord.

For Keith, nothing changed.

Consumption had touched his life twice, taking both his parents from him. Prayers and crosses and their black-covered Bibles had done nothing to save them. He had no horror left in him, there was nothing for the world to rip from his hands save his own life.

His life held little value, to him or anyone else. He was quiet, kept to himself, and worked as a stablehand for the blacksmith that also served as a farrier and stable master. Horses did not demand much from him, unlike people. They did not expect conversation or fake smiles. Just a calm, steady hand, and their meals at the same time each day.

Keith was secretly very fond of the horses.

 

Spring gradually transformed into summer and a handsome, unusual stranger came to town.

 

* * *

 

His name was odd and his appearance even more so. He was youthful, yet his dark hair was streaked with a shock of white in the front like a star on the forehead of a horse.

 _Takashi Shirogane_. Keith stumbled over the pronunciation the first time, as did most others. He’d just laughed and told him to call him simply Shiro.

He was initially met with suspicion and wariness, as most strangers to a small town are. But he was kind, and friendly, and a devout man of God, and he’d come to replace the only schoolteacher the town had, an elderly man with failing eyesight.

By the time summer cooled into autumn, the townspeople had thoroughly accepted Shiro as one of their own.

 

Keith went out of his way to avoid him.

 

In such close quarters, though, it was nearly impossible. Also, Shiro owned a horse. A pitch black shire mare, almost comically large but wonderfully docile. A five year old child could stand upright beneath her belly without their head brushing against her, and she’d allow one to do so, too.

The first time Keith met Shiro, he blamed his stuttering on his unease around strangers. The second time, he told himself he still hadn’t gotten the chance to grow comfortable speaking to him yet. The third time, their hands touched as Keith passed the reins of his horse over, and he forgot how to speak at all.

The anxious, fluttery feeling Shiro gave him was something he decided was unpleasant, but when he went too long without seeing him, he was filled with melancholy.

It was very inconvenient.

 

What didn’t help was Shiro’s habit of embracing people upon parting. His tall frame and broad shoulders would completely engulf Keith, and it always set his heart racing. Afterward, he would be unable to look him in the eye.

Like his religious uncertainty, this was just another secret he had to keep. Luckily, his only friends were horses.

Autumn turned into an unusually cold winter. With the wind and snow returned another frightful thing - consumption.

The elderly schoolteacher was the first to show signs of the illness. Shiro was incredibly distraught, rarely leaving his side.

Five more took sick in the coming weeks. All were dead by spring. But once again, with the gradually warming weather, the disease vanished with the snow. The wariness, however, didn’t.

Nine people in total killed by the white plague, which had never been known in this town before. It had the taint of something… otherworldly.

Witchcraft, was whispered at first. Some kind of curse. Everyone began to look at their neighbors with a trace of misgiving.

Keith kept his head down and let Shiro wheedle him into attending church. His thoughts were anything but holy with Shiro’s warm body pressed against his side in the narrow wooden pew.

But impure thoughts were not witchcraft, and Keith was fairly certain that his desire for Shiro to be naked and atop him in the stable hayloft wasn't causing his neighbors to die. He said a few prayers anyway, despite feeling foolish about it, and tried - unsuccessfully - to avoid fantasies.

He'd spent so long in solitude that now it was quite consistent to find himself entirely alone for days at a time. And time to himself meant time to think and _imagine_ and _daydream_. All too often, his thoughts drifted to the handsome new schoolteacher. It was a wonder he hadn't been struck down with some kind of curse himself.

Although perhaps his pining was a curse into itself. Every time Shiro smiled at him, his chest ached with hopeless longing.

The weather was just beginning to turn cold when sickness crept into their homes again. This time it was nine people who fell ill, their skin turning ashy and their bodies wasting away.

Witchcraft was heard less. Instead it was something else. Revenant. Undead. _Vampire._ Perhaps those three that had died the first winter were returning to inflict others with the sickness, draining their life from beyond the grave. At Shiro’s suggestion, everyone agreed to dig up the bodies. Keith stayed silent, horrified at the prospect.

But as an able-bodied young man, he could not avoid being part of the crew that carried shovels into the cemetery. Shiro was there too, his face drawn tight with somber concern.

 

Metal struck the earth with dull thuds and the quiet chink of small stones hitting the blade. It was miserable, appalling work. Into the soil they dug, and Keith felt his fingers tremble slightly on the handle of his shovel. Shiro laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I won't let it hurt you,” he promised, managing a small smile.

Despite the fact that they were standing in a half-open grave, Keith's heart soared.

“Thank you, Shiro.”

They continued digging.

 

The first body was rotted and withered, and Keith gagged at the stench. Shiro patted his back as he turned away from the gruesome sight. The coffin lid was hammered back on, and they filled in the grave once more.

The second and third bodies were the same way, riddled with maggots and reeking of decay. Keith could no longer fight the urge to vomit, and he stumbled away to where the graveyard was lined with trees to empty his stomach. Shiro followed him, offering him a canteen of water to rinse out his mouth once he'd finished.

“You're looking a bit pale,” he said in alarm.

Keith shook his head slightly, knowing what he was thinking. “It's just… this is so awful. I hate to think about one of them being a v-vampire. But I don't want anyone else to die, either.”

Shiro hummed in sympathy and pulled him into an embrace. Instantly, Keith relaxed against him.

“You keep to yourself, but you're a kind soul, Keith,” Shiro said, his voice warm. “Don't you worry, we'll figure this out.”

As they walked back, their hands brushed against one another with each step.

Keith felt a little warmer despite the winter chill, and their grisly task.

 

“I think we should move on to the six from last winter,” Shiro suggested to the others. “Just in case. Keith, why don’t you rest for a while?”

Gratefully, Keith nodded, and took a seat on a tree stump at the edge of the cemetery.

He watched the men fill the graves back in, and then move to where the old schoolteacher was buried, last winter's first victim.

The wind seemed to pick up a little, making the air even colder. Keith shivered, wrapping his arms around himself. He wished Shiro would hold him again.

 

There was a startled shout when the body was finally revealed, and curiosity dragged him forward. What he saw was even more horrific than the putrescent bodies they’d unearthed before. Despite being dead in the ground for almost a year, the elderly schoolteacher looked as fresh as the day they’d lain him to rest.

“I think we’ve seen all we need to,” Shiro said grimly. There was a fire behind his eyes as he stared at the body, looking for all the world as if he were merely asleep and not a year deceased.

“What should we do?” Keith asked, almost subconsciously drawing closer to Shiro.

“We’re going to have to put the monster down. We cut out his heart, and burn it.”

Keith’s stomach twisted, but he had nothing left to bring up.

 

* * *

 

At first, it seemed to work. Those who were sick recovered slightly, regaining color to their cheeks and coughing less. As spring approached, everyone was hopeful that the illness would leave the town as it had before, and those who were sick would be healed.

Shiro was being lauded as a hero for undertaking the macabre task of cutting out the old man’s heart and burning it to ash.

“They’ll be calling upon you to dispatch vampires all over Massachusetts,” Keith teased gently as he combed a tangle from the mane of Shiro’s horse. “And then the entire east coast. Perhaps they’ll even write a novel about you.”

“Oh hush,” Shiro said, bashful. “I was just doing what was necessary to protect the people of this town.”

He drew closer to Keith, lightly brushing a lock of hair away from his face. Keith’s breath hitched.

“To protect you,” Shiro continued in a softer voice. “Like I promised.”

Keith felt shamefully transparent, all his desires laid bare for Shiro to see. Shiro was a pious man, what would he think of his sodomitic thoughts?

But if he’d seen the yearning in Keith’s face, he made no comment, simply smiling before moving away to pet the horse’s nose. His secret, it seemed, was safe.

 

The hope that grew with the warming weather proved as fragile as an icicle in the sun. An unexpected cold snap in late spring caused those who were sick to take a turn for the worse. Two died before even a week was up.

The admiration the town held for Shiro transformed into suspicion. Where had he come from, anyway? The elderly schoolteacher said nothing of summoning a replacement even as he grew frail with his agedness. He was a stranger from a strange place with a strange name. And how had he known the best way to dispatch of a vampire? Perhaps it had been he who turned the old man in the first place, an accident in the process of draining his life. He got rid of him to cover his own tracks.

From beside Shiro as they sat in church, Keith could feel the apprehensive gazes the townsfolk leveled at him.

 

Then Shiro took sick himself.

 

Keith found himself praying in earnest for the first time since he lost his parents.

It wasn’t _fair_. Why did this world want to tear everything he truly cared about away from him? He visited Shiro often, sponging the sweat from his brow as he was wracked with fever. He knelt by his bedside in the rare times that he was able to sleep, praying as he’d never prayed for Shiro’s life.

“Take mine instead,” he whispered to the darkness, Shiro’s hand clasped between his own. “Please, save Shiro.”

“I fear I am not long for this world,” Shiro whispered one day, his lips stained with blood from a coughing fit.

“Don’t say that,” Keith replied. “It’s only been a few weeks. The others… they had _months_. And maybe you’ll recover!”

Shiro smiled, reaching up to gently cup his cheek. “You’re a good man, Keith. I marvel at your faith and devotion. But if you have to let me go, let me go. You’ll be alright.”

Hot tears burned Keith’s eyes. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I know. But our time on this earth is always meant to be temporary. We’ll meet again in paradise, do not fret so.” He wiped away a falling tear with his thumb. “Tell me again the story of that petulant bay mare who taught herself to unlock gates to go on romps through the town. I would like to see you smile. It distresses me to see your sorrow.”

Keith took a shuddering breath. “Anything you want,” he promised, leaning into Shiro’s hand.

 

Consumption was usually a slow disease, creeping through the body like moss gradually overtakes a fallen tree. Those who took ill in the early days of winter survived through to nearly the end, only succumbing to the disease as spring approached.

But for Shiro, sickness ravaged his body like a wildfire, rapid and hungry. It was as though the deceased schoolteacher was enacting revenge for desecrating his body. Keith was by his side when Shiro took his last, rattling breath, less than a month after the first signs of the affliction.

He held his body close and sobbed, cursing God.

* * *

 

The cold spell passed and summer followed spring. Keith still felt frozen inside, and every time he closed his eyes he saw Shiro’s lifeless body. The idea of him beneath the earth, withering away like the bodies they’d dug up tormented him. He began to have nightmares of seeing Shiro rise from the grave, his flesh falling from his bones in great rotted swathes. He slept little, and could barely eat.

 

He was already weak and haggard when the cold weather returned. That’s when he began to cough.

Intimately familiar with all the signs of the disease, Keith immediately knew it could be none other that the white death. The knowledge that he would likely not survive to see another spring settled into his bones. He didn’t feel afraid, merely weary. At last, the only thing he had left was to be consumed. Just like his parents, just like Shiro. He endured the pain of wracking coughs and constant fatigue without complaint, hiding his sickness as long as he could. His desire was to quietly leave the world without worry or fanfare. He had no family, no friends. No one to wipe the blood from his lips as coughing fits woke him from his sleep in the middle of the night.

Once again, Keith found himself praying. Not for his life, he didn’t care about that. But he prayed that God could forgive all his profane thoughts and allow him into Heaven, so he could be reunited with Shiro. For the first time, he understood why people had faith. It made the suffering and loss of this earth bearable.

His wish to die without anyone noticing his sickness was not to be granted. He collapsed one day in the stables in a fit of feverish chills, and that was where the blacksmith found him.

Unanimously, the town decided that Shiro truly was a vampire after all.

An unwitting one this time, perhaps the elderly schoolteacher’s first victim. Shiro’s sickness was retribution for digging up his body and burning his heart. Now, Shiro was draining Keith’s life from beyond the grave, helpless to resist his undead nature.

 

Keith lay in bed, weak at the best of times and delirious with the fever at others.

 

The townsfolk decided to exhume Shiro’s body. When Keith heard of this, he frantically tried to crawl from his bed to stop them, but he was too frail to even leave the room. The woman who was looking after him that day forced him back to bed.

“Please,” he begged, all his nightmares haunting him. “Don’t let them do this. Don’t let them dig up the body.”

“Hush,” she said, wiping his sweaty brow with a cloth. “Don’t fret. We know how to handle vampires now. You’ll be all right in no time.”

Keith bit his tongue, choosing not to remind her of all those who had died anyway after the original vampire had been slaughtered. He’d accepted his death as an inevitability. He was almost looking forward to it. To be free of the ache in his chest and the constant fatigue! Shiro’s words on his own deathbed consistently comforted him.

_We’ll meet again in paradise._

Just to see Shiro again would be paradise enough.

 

 

* * *

 

Unbeknownst to Keith, the townsfolk had heard tell of another village that was plagued with a vampire.

Upon digging up the body to find it just as remarkably preserved as their old schoolteacher had been, they also cut out the heart and burned it to ash. But then they took the ash and mixed it up into a tonic for the ailing victims to drink. By all accounts, those who were sick then recovered.

Keith found all this out when they brought a bottle of gray, gritty fluid for him to drink.

In the bottle was the remains of Shiro’s heart.

Keith shrieked in horror, withdrawing from the townsfolk and refusing to drink.

“It’s the vampire’s curse!” Someone exclaimed. “He doesn’t want to give him up, he’s possessing his body.”

“No, no, no!” Keith wailed, tossing and turning as best he could with his feeble strength. “Don’t make me drink it!”

The images from his nightmares haunted him, filling him with fear unlike any he’d ever known. They’d truly dug up Shiro’s body and mutilated him. Keith screamed as loud as he could despite his inability to fully draw a breath.

 

In the end, several strong men held him down, and another forced open his mouth. He sobbed as they poured the tonic down his throat, much of it spilling down his chin as he choked and sputtered.

A woman rubbed his throat, encouraging him to swallow. Even though he was already dying, his body wouldn’t let him drown. He swallowed.

Revulsion churned in his stomach, and he wished he could vomit. Traitorously, his body kept the tonic down. He’d consumed Shiro’s heart.

Keith wept late into the night.

 

* * *

 

For a brief time, it appeared to have been successful. Keith found himself breathing a little easier, and not quite so feverish. He was repulsed by himself, and felt cheated from the paradise Shiro had promised him.

The townsfolk, however, were triumphant. They’d truly defeated the vampire this time, and no one else would die. They could not understand Keith’s continued melancholy.

With fewer coughing fits came longer, uninterrupted sleep. And that’s when Keith’s nightmares returned.

Under pale moonlight he would find himself walking to the cemetery, and Shiro’s grave would be dug up just like the others. His feet would keep moving forward against his will, bringing him to the edge of the hole in the earth. Keith would look down into the grave, and slowly the lid to Shiro’s coffin would slide to the side. The stench of rot choking him, Keith would be unable to tear his eyes away from sight of Shiro’s body, his face pitted with decay and the hole in his chest swarming with maggots. Shiro would open black, empty eyes and reach his arms out to him.

“My heart,” his voice would rasp. “Give me back my heart.”

Keith would wake from these nightmares screaming and sobbing.

 

It was a relief when his sickness returned with a vengeance, keeping him up at all hours with his constant coughing. His bedclothes became stained with blood and sweat, and he shivered no matter how high the fire was built up. The townsfolk were fearful again, and as he laid in a feverish delirium he could hear them discussing what could be done. When their voices faded to an indistinct buzz, he could hear Shiro’s voice instead.

“Come to me, Keith,” he murmured in his ear. “There’s no pain here. I’m waiting for you, just like I promised. I’ll keep you safe again.”

“Shiro,” Keith whispered hoarsely, his vision wavering.

He could see his smile, and behind him, a bright light.

Keith was at peace when the consumption finally claimed his life.

* * *

 

Keith woke with a gasp to find that he could properly fill his lungs with air once again, without the pain and heaviness in his chest. It was dark, and with each deep breath he could taste stale air and soil. He reached up and found rough wood underneath his palms.

Realization struck him at once. He was inside of a coffin.

Panic filled him, and he scrabbled at the surface of the wood with his nails, shouting for help.

Keith became aware of a muffled sound above him - the dull thud of a shovel. A different fear caused him to fall silent, trembling. In the darkness, the image of the old schoolteacher in his grave appeared before him, looking as though he was merely sleeping. Had the townsfolk come to slay yet another vampire that was killing them off one by one?

With a creak, the lid of the coffin was lifted off. He blinked at the sudden brightness of the moonlight, his chest heaving.

“Keith,” a soft voice murmured, and horror filled him as he saw who it was that released him from the coffin.

Tossing the lid aside, Shiro offered him his hand to help him up out of the grave.

“You’re dead,” Keith said.

He could see the gaping hole in his chest from where they’d cut out his heart.

“So are you,” Shiro whispered, grinning.

As Keith lay dying, he’d wanted nothing more than to see Shiro’s smile again, but now the sight made him feel nothing but terror and revulsion. This was wrong, wrong, _wrong_ , and his whole being was protesting what he was seeing with his own eyes.

Shiro forcibly grabbed Keith and yanked him from the hole.

“You have something that I need.”

Shiro pulled him close and, to Keith’s shock, kissed him soundly on the the lips.

Frozen with fear and confusion, Keith did nothing in response.

Shiro released him, gently stroking his hair away from his face. “Such a shame,” he murmured. “We could have been so powerful together. Ah, well.”

“What are you talking ab-” Keith cut himself off with a loud cry of agony as a searing pain burned through his sternum.

He looked down to see Shiro’s hand cleave into his flesh, and, as he watched, pull out his heart. The organ was still beating as it was removed from his body, the blood oozing from it soaking the sleeve of Shiro’s shirt.

He swayed on his feet, his vision blurred.

“But it’s always been mine all along, hasn’t it?” Shiro breathed, bringing the heart up to his lips. “Quiet, meek Keith. You were just full of secrets. Perhaps I could have loved you, but-” he laughed “-terribly hard to love without a heart.”

Shiro opened his mouth wide, and he saw that his teeth were long and sharp, like fangs. He sank those fangs into Keith’s heart, consuming it in just a few bites.

Blood stained his lips as he grinned at Keith with those horrible fangs. “You won’t last long without a heart, I’m afraid, young and weak as you are. Goodbye, Keith.”

 

He pushed him back into the grave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween, I hope I traumatized you as much as I traumatized myself. 
> 
> Like all modern vampire stories, whether the author realizes or not, this story is inspired by the events that unfolded in the rural town of Exeter, Rhode Island, surrounding the Brown family. I highly recommend checking out the first episode, 'They Made a Tonic,' of the podcast 'Lore,' to hear the full story. There's also a free transcript of this episode available. 
> 
> As a Halloween treat, I'll be posting some bonus content for this story later tonight.
> 
> As always thank you for reading, and find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/meoqie) and [tumblr](http://meoqie.tumblr.com)!


	2. Bonus Alternate Ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone had a wonderful Halloween night and got lots of treats. Here is one more, an alternative, happier, ending!

Keith woke with a gasp to find that he could properly fill his lungs with air once again, without the pain and heaviness in his chest. It was dark, and with each deep breath he could taste stale air and soil. He reached up and found rough wood underneath his palms. 

 

Realization struck him at once. He was inside of a coffin. 

 

Panic filled him, and he scrabbled at the surface of the wood with his nails, shouting for help. 

Keith became aware of a muffled sound above him - the dull thud of a shovel. A different fear caused him to fall silent, trembling. In the darkness, the image of the old schoolteacher in his grave appeared before him, looking as though he was merely sleeping. Had the townsfolk come to slay yet another vampire that was killing them off one by one?

With a creak, the lid of the coffin was lifted off. He blinked at the sudden brightness of the moonlight, his chest heaving.

“Keith,” a soft voice murmured, and horror filled him as he saw who it was that released him from the coffin.

“You’re… you’re a vampire,” Keith stammered, pulling away from Shiro’s offered hand.

He could see the gaping hole in his chest from where they’d cut out his heart.

“I am,” Shiro said solemnly. “And now, so are you. Don’t be afraid, Keith. Everything will be alright.”

Keith stared up at Shiro, terrified and confused. “How is this possible?”

“I don’t truly know myself,” Shiro admitted. “But I have been this way for a long, long time. When I am in danger, I allow myself to die, and I rise anew to move on. But this time, it was difficult for me to leave. To know you were mourning me, it caused me too much pain. I couldn’t leave you. And then…” He touched the bloody wound in his chest. 

Keith shuddered, looking away. “How are you even alive? Or, undead, or what have you. That’s supposed to kill a vampire.”

Shiro made a sound of amusement. “Indeed. A younger, weaker vampire would be dead. But I am not young, and I am not weak. It will take some time, but my heart will heal. After all, it’s in a very safe place.” He smiled and leaned farther into the grave, tapping Keith’s chest.

Keith’s breath hitched. He was still scared, and full of questions, but Shiro was here and they were both, somehow, alive.

“The old schoolteacher?” He asked, the last of his most pressing of questions.

Shiro scowled. “Truly a vampire, also. That’s why I even came here in the first place. He would have killed again, trying to extend his life. We fought, and in doing so, I was weakened. That’s why I had to take the lives of some of the others, to regain my strength.” He hung his head, looking ashamed. “It pained me to do so, but I had no choice.”

Keith felt his throat constrict with revulsion. “Will I have to…?” He couldn’t even finish the question, too horrified. 

Shiro nodded sadly. “I’m afraid so. Often at first, but less and less as you age and grow stronger. I’m sorry for being so selfish as to make you like this, but I just couldn’t bear the thought of parting from you. After all, I promised we would meet again.” 

He lightly touched Keith’s face, smiling. “I will always protect you, no matter what. You don’t have to be afraid.” 

Keith hesitantly took Shiro’s hand, letting him pull him up from the grave. 

“We can be together forever,” Shiro promised, holding him close. “I won’t ever leave you again.” 

 

Keith decided to trust Shiro, and after filling in the grave again, they left town together, Keith holding tight to Shiro’s waist on the back of his horse. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They went on to terrorize several dozen New England towns and create an epidemic of tuberculosis and vampire panic. Also they were super gay and in love.
> 
> Funny story this is actually how I originally planned to end the fic, before deciding that a straightforward horror story from start to finish worked better. But I couldn't let the happy version never see the light of day, so you get both.
> 
> Happy Halloween!


End file.
